


Impromptu

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_kink, F/M, Ficlet, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Zarek and Laura Roslin have an illicit meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impromptu

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the bsg-kink Hot/Cold prompt "It's cold near the airlock."
> 
> Thanks to lanalucy for the beta.

“You’re freezing,” said Tom as he pulled the President of the Twelve Colonies down on top of his body. He was sprawled out on his back on the cold floor but his overheated body tolerated the seeping coolness. Laura Roslin was straddling his lap with her skirt hiked up around her waist and her blouse unbuttoned, her flame-colored hair a beautiful mess. All things considered, the chilly metal floor was an incidental inconvenience that he would bear without complaint.

“This is a terrible location for a tryst,” she said with a derisive laugh that was more directed at their situation than at him particularly. They were in the large anteroom that led to the airlock and it was especially drafty with the wide vents. Precious resources weren’t wasted on regulating the temperature so the room was often one of the coldest ones on _Galactica_. But it was private and relatively remote and they probably wouldn’t be disturbed. Those advantages could not be easily overlooked on a ship that offered the President and Vice President only a scant few opportunities for privacy.

Tom hadn’t exactly had time for strategic pre-planning. It had been a spontaneous and single touch that had precipitated this impromptu encounter. During the morning’s press conference, he had slipped a hand against the small of Laura’s back, brushing his thumb up against her in a slow circular motion. It had been a quick, fleeting contact, unconsciously sensual; his almost constant desire to touch her in a provocative way was apparently a non-negotiable imperative that overrode good sense and decorum.

Laura had leaned into him casually, bringing her mouth to his ear as they turned away from the press. He had braced himself for the anticipated reproach.

But as Laura Roslin often did, the lady had surprised him.

“Find a way to be alone with me,” she had whispered tantalizingly. No reproach at all. There wasn’t time for her to say anything further before Tory descended upon her with schedules and instructions, notes and commentary, whisking away the object of Tom’s affection before he had been able to respond with so much as a look of acknowledgement.

Sometimes he truly detested Tory Foster to the point of pure malice.

But none of that mattered now. Tom was nothing if not resourceful and he and Laura were blissfully alone. His lips skimmed across the skin of her neck and he inhaled the scent of her, a faint hint of watered down soap, white rose and fresh citron with a tinge of musk, a small thing he’d been able to secretly gift her with from his black market connections, after he’d noticed the way she broke out into rashes from the cheap industrial stuff that they wanted everybody to use. If she’d noticed that her small bottle of moisturizing soap never seemed to completely run out, she’d never said anything.

If he could have everything he wanted, he’d have both Laura and himself completely naked -- but that would be impossible in a room this cold so he resigned himself to the necessity of them keeping most of their clothes on. She hadn’t worn a suit jacket today, and Tom noted her burgundy colored silk blouse was terribly thin as he slipped his hands underneath the flimsy fabric. His body was very warm and the woman on top of him nestled even closer until there was no space between them whatsoever.

Maybe the airlock anteroom had its advantages after all.

He pushed his hips up, pressing his hard cock against her center. The rest of her body might be cold but there was concentrated heat there. Even with the barrier of his pants and her underwear, he could feel the warmth in between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her body, starting at her shoulders and running all the way down to cup her ass. He did this repeatedly, almost rhythmically, until she made that small, almost imperceptible sound in the back of her throat that he adored so much.

Laura wriggled out of her panties and Tom hurriedly unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. She sank down on him with a throaty gasp, her back arched and her green eyes closed in ecstasy. She was impossibly warm and deliciously wet as she rotated her hips, shifting upwards and then sinking back down onto him with abandon.

She opened her eyes and looked at him as she continued to writhe and bounce on top of him, only barely stifling her moans of approval. Tom wasn’t managing to be as deferentially quiet and Laura finally leaned down and silenced his low grunts with a heated kiss.

She came with an unsuppressed cry, digging her knees into the frigid floor as she continued to rock against him. Tom pushed his hips up savagely and emptied himself into her as she panted against his neck, the aftershocks of her climax driving him into his own oblivion.

The room remained as cold as it had been when they’d first sneaked inside but the woman in his arms was utterly warm now, from head to toe, and she laid her flushed face against his chest with a contented little hum.

"You know," murmured Laura as she nuzzled her face into his neck and pressed a lazy kiss there, "one of these days I'd really like to try this in a bed."


End file.
